


The Trouble With Tribbles:  Nobody Knows the Tribbles I've Seen

by Cheree_Cargill



Series: Glimpses of a Life [53]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:45:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheree_Cargill/pseuds/Cheree_Cargill
Summary: What to do with all the tribbles on board the Enterprise?  If you'll recall, Scotty said, "It was actually Mr. Spock's idea."





	The Trouble With Tribbles:  Nobody Knows the Tribbles I've Seen

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Cheree Cargill and is copyright (c) 2018 by Cheree Cargill. This story is Rated G.

 

 

 _Stardate:_ _4523_.8 _._ _Personal Log. First Officer Spock recording._

 

Vulcans do not feel annoyance, frustration or anger. At least I told myself that, but having to clear my cabin and bathroom of hundreds of the furry pests drove me close to it.

Every available person on board was busy scouring the ship and collecting tribbles, but they had not gotten to deck five yet and, as I made a stop in my cabin, I found my quarters inundated with the creatures. Every horizontal surface, as well as the walls, was covered in multicolored fur and the trilling they made had ceased to be pleasant and now positively grated on the nerves.

I tiptoed through the mass on the floor, something not easy in space boots, until I could reach the intercom switch on my desk. “Spock to Scott,” I said as I punched the switch.

After a few second, Mr. Scott responded. “Aye, Mr. Spock. Scott here.”

“Mr. Scott, I want personnel dispatched to my quarters to remove all the tribbles here,” I stated in a no-nonsense tone.

“Aye, Mr. Spock. We’ll get to it as soon as we can.” The engineer sounded harassed. “They’re breedin’ faster than we can remove them!”

“You misunderstand me, Mr. Scott. I want my cabin cleared _now_.”

There was an audible sigh of exasperation on the other end of the intercom. “Aye, sir. Scott out.”

Cleaning my desk only added to the pile on the floor. My bed appeared to have a moving fur blanket and as I shook the coverlet free, I discovered that the tribbles had burrowed underneath the sheets and were busily moving about. This forced me to strip the bed entirely of its linen in order to eradicate any unwanted bed guests I might have. The pile of tribbles was halfway up the wall by now. I checked my closet and, sure enough, it was full of little furballs, and they were beginning to make their way up and into my clothing hanging there. My extra boots were already overflowing.

The bathroom was even worse. My sonic shower was half-full, they had discovered that water came out of sink faucet, and even the toilet had numerous tribbles floating in the bowl. They couldn’t really swim, but they weren’t drowning either. I suppose air trapped in their fur kept them afloat.

Gingerly and with great distaste, I picked the tribbles out of the commode and flung them onto the pile in the bedroom. I decided to leave the ones in the shower because at least they were contained there until they could be removed.

My desk intercom whistled. It was Captain Kirk. "Meet me in the transporter room, Spock," he said and sounded quite disgruntled. "We've got to go back over to the space station and deal with the Klingons. Again. Kirk out."

At this point the buzzer on my door sounded and I ordered "Come!" in a loud voice. Two security men attempted to enter but halted at the door.

"Reporting as ordered, Mr. Spock," said the first man, staring stunned at the pile of tribbles, which seemed to be increasing even as we watched.

"This!" I gestured. "I want every last tribble out of my cabin by the time I return." And I brushed past the security men on my way to meet the Captain.

* * *

I will admit that I have had very little use for Klingons since our encounter with them on Organia and my first-hand experience with their mind sifter. They are ruthless, dirty, rude, and they smell bad. Very bad. I thought that humans reeked when I first came on board, but at least they bathe regularly and I had become accustomed to their smell, but the Klingons… Little wonder that the tribbles react so violently in their presence. Koloth and Korax were prime examples of their race and I was repulsed every time we had to deal with them, although I did my best so show only calm and indifference. I could tell Captain Kirk was struggling to maintain control, as well.

After we returned to the ship, I went to check on the progress of the tribble clean up and particularly my cabin. The two security men were still at work and had been forced to call in a crew to haul away all the tribbles they were unearthing.

"Where are you putting them?" I asked as I supervised the cleaning of my more confidential places where, as first officer, only I had access. I thought. There were tribbles there, too.

Wilson, the first man who had come to my cabin, paused to wipe his forehead. "Mr. Scott has everyone dumping them in the shuttlecraft hanger. It's the only place on board that's big enough to hold them all."

"And what does he plan to do with them after that?" I asked.

"I don't know, sir. You'd have to talk to him about that. I was wondering the same thing. We could just open up the hanger doors and decompress them out into space, but that seems pretty cruel."

"Yes, I agree. Very well, continue your work and I will seek out Mr. Scott." With that I ducked back into the corridor, wishing I had time to change my uniform. The Klingon stench clung to me from my brief encounter with them on the space station, but there were other things that needed my attention. I would just have to smell this way for a while longer.

* * *

I found Scott supervising the dumping of the tribbles in the hanger bay which was now nearly full. At his first sight of me, he approached, obviously frazzled by the impossible task at hand. "We're making progress, Mr. Spock, but where do we go from here? I'm at my wit's end!"

The tribbles nearest to me squealed in panic and I hastily backed out of the shuttle bay. They had obviously smelled the Klingon stink on my clothing. An unworthy thought occurred to me, but by that time, I didn't care. The Klingons deserved it.

"Mr. Scott," I said. "I have a suggestion of what to do with the tribbles." And there was the merest hint of a vindictive smile on my lips.

THE END

 

 


End file.
